


Viking Song (WIP)

by orphan_account



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, How Do I Tag, How do I fic, M/M, Rough Draft, WIP, alfred needs to get laid, babbys first fic, i have no friends, what am i doing w my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: By God's grace, Alfred will get some meat.





	Viking Song (WIP)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking! ily <3 <3 If you are someone who actually knows how to write, please, pretty please, write fic for this pairing <3 <3

Uhtred was two fucking seconds away from clocking Alfred right in his stupid fucking face.

His highness, Lord Alfred, continued to grace him with a positively idiotic half-smile, his eyes oddly serious, but radiating extreme condescention. His royal lips steadily flapped about, not hesitating to spout some more useless bullshit about the piety of his priests and the charity of god in a monotone voice that made Uthred feel like ripping the hair from his own scalp.

Sure, Uhtred was a fierce warrior, and had withstood numerous confrontations with bloodthirsty and crude enemies. Both brutish Danes and foul Saxons fell before his sword. He had survived the excruciating pain of deep and near-fatal injuries.

But surely, there was a point where he should say enough, to hell with his reputation, to hell with his quest to take his rightful place as the Lord of Bebbanburg. He might at least try to spare himself from further torture---whether it be physical pain, or the torture of unbearable and unending sermons, made especially awful when preached by ungrateful and overconfident kings---the method of torture by which Alfred afflicted him presently. 

Though Uhtred outwardly maintained his controlled, blank expression, to his inner dismay---and great frustration--- Alfred showed no signs of slowing in his tedious religious tirade. 

"Additionally, my records contain a catalogue detailing the fall of nearby Saxon villages and calculations---done by yours truly---rating the probabilites of future incursions in the surrounding areas."

Uhtred closed his eyes, head feeling uncomfortably warm, while Alfred continued to drone. 

"It also recounts donations made to church. There seems to be a strong positive correlation between village leaders whom were generous in their donations to the Church, and those villages which survived violent attacks led by Pagan heretics."

Uhtred began to inhale slowly, counting each breath. He suspected that he was beginning to get a headache. 

"I am sure that this is a sign from the Almighty. God has blessed us with his mercy and has rewarded his most faithful servants."

Uhtred clenched his jaw tightly and said nothing. It was only his training as a warrior that allowed him to remain so still. He folded his arms, resting his back tensly against a tall bookcase facing the desk at which his Lord stood, sorting through a mess of scrolls. 

Uhtred subtly tilted his head to the side, his gaze focusing on the door, the only exit in Alfred's private library. He fantasized about making a mad dash out of the room, turning abruptly, flipping Alfred the bird, and then slamming the door on his majesty's dumbfounded face.

**Author's Note:**

> send me ur uhtred/alfred headcannons


End file.
